Confessions of an Attention Seeking Hufflepuff
by Indigo Ziona
Summary: She is Maisie Wilkins, and her goal for this year is to simply be herself. Little does she know what trouble that's going to get her into...
1. Let's start from the very beginning

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Disclaimer: Belongs to JKR, except for Maisie Wilkins. If Maisie had belonged to JKR, she would have come between Ron and Blaise Zabini in the Sorting in Philosopher's Stone – she didn't because I made her up. Maisie is the name of Matt and Beth Redman's daughter (their son is called Noah and he's so ickle and cute), which I kind of liked. I would have picked a canon Hufflepuff for her, but she's an OC and deserves an original name. Enjoy. Oh yes, and Marguerite is kind of mine, although I ripped her off of Baroness Orczy's 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' because it's kinda funny to see her with someone called Percy.

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Confessions of an Attention Seeking Hufflepuff

Chapter 1

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"Do wizards have singers?" I asked my mother, as she and Madam Malkin fussed over my robes.

"Now dear, you'll probably lose interest in all that," Mum began, but Madam Malkin interrupted her.

"Of course they do, dear. Celestina Warbeck – and the Weird Sisters. You'll have to get a Wizard's Wireless."

"Do you think Hogwarts have a choir?"

Singing was the only thing I was certain I could do. The plan for my life had been simple when I decided that I'd get my GCSEs and go to Music School. But then I discovered there was one other thing I could do – magic. I should have guessed when I was breaking glasses at Middle C.

Help me.

"I want to do musicals," I said in a small voice.

"I'm sure wizards have musicals," Mum muttered offhandedly, as I changed.

**

Singing, musicals, and my Muggle friends were my life when I was eleven. Who wants to be a Muggleborn witch? Apart from Hermione Granger, that is. Anyway, I had growing pains. Serious ones.

"I don't _want_ to be a witch," I wailed at dinner one day.

"Maisie, you _are _a witch," Mum said. "There's nothing you can do about it."

"It's a talent," Dad pronounced. "You're always saying you wish you had more talent at schoolwork." True, I wasn't that great at school. But there was only one thing I wanted to be good at.

"I've got one talent and it's the only talent I want!"

**

"Maisie Wilkins."

"Percy Weasley. You're a first year?"

"That's right."

Percy was sort of cute. How old was he, sixteen? Red hair. Looking Rather Mature. Prefect.

"Well, Maisie, do you have any questions about life at Hogwarts?"

"Does it have a choir?"

He looked taken aback. "No… I don't think so."

Great. I would have willingly given my magical powers to any Squib (I knew what they were, I bought a book called _A Guide for Muggleborns_, the only book I hadn't skim-read) just at that moment.

Percy looked eager. He seemed sort of sweet.

"What about the classes? How do they decide which classes we're in?"

"Ah… Well, you'll be Sorted into your house. Either Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin. I'm in Gryffindor – that's meant to be the house for the brave and noble of heart…"

I didn't feel brave. At all. I'm not brave, in fact. I let him rattle on for hours. A bushy haired girl next to me was hanging on his every word.

"What about the others?" I asked lazily.

"Oh!" He snapped out of his reverie. "Well… Ravenclaw is for the clever and quick-witted."

"Not me," I told him, shortly.

He smiled. "Slytherin – that's cunning and ambitious…"

Now _that _sounded like me. Even if his expression darkened as he said it, it did sound like the place where I belonged. I grinned.

The door to the compartment burst open. "Percy!" A blonde girl whose robes had matching insignia to Percy's.

"Oh… hello, Marguerite. Just talking to a couple of first years. This is Maisie, and this is Hermione."

"Hello!" She bounced in. "What was Prefect Percy telling you about?"

"The houses," Hermione volunteered. "Gryffindor sounds like the best."

I wondered. Did Hermione fancy Percy? Probably not…

Marguerite beamed. "It is. Better than Slytherin – you know that's where all the dark wizards come from?"

I didn't really want to hurt Marguerite's feelings, but that sounded like prejudice to me. She turned to Percy. "Harriet Lafayette tried to hex me at the station – can you believe that?"

"What's wrong with being cunning and ambitious?" I asked softly.

They all stared at me. Percy's expression said, _We've lost her._

"Slytherins usually break lots of rules. And Professor Snape – their head of house – he favours them above the rest of us."

"Well… I don't agree with that," I said thoughtfully. "What about Hufflepuff?"

Marguerite giggled. "Duffers."

"They're friendly, loyal and hardworking," Percy said fastidiously. He looked suspicious when my smile returned.

"They have a whole house of nice people? That sounds good."

Marguerite was staring at me like I'd gone mad. A boy came to the door.

"Have you seen my toad? I've lost it…"

**

"Hmm, not Gryffindor or Ravenclaw – you're perfect Slytherin material although you're Muggleborn…"

"What's that got to do with it?"

"You'll find out," the Sorting Hat murmured. "If you're willing to make up stories about your wizard parents, I can put you in there anyway – that's happened before, you know."

"I don't suppose they have a choir?"

"Slytherin are rather artsy, but I doubt it."

"Frankly I'd like to be in Hufflepuff. No matter what Marguerite says, it must be nice to be surrounded by friendly and loyal people. But I can take Slytherin, I could probably say I'm adopted or something…"

"Hufflepuff, eh? Wouldn't be my first choice but you have an aptitude for Helga's house."

"Just place me, OK? People are starting to stare."

They were, actually. It was taking a terribly long time, almost as long as Neville Longbottom. Harry Potter (whom I gathered was quite famous, what was he, a pop star?) had taken quite a long time too. Apparently the whole Houses thing was a big deal, I noticed a large girl called Millicent practically praying before she was put in Slytherin. Looked like her prayer was answered. The bushy haired girl, Hermione, she was in Gryffindor.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Cheers broke out from the Hufflepuff table. I smiled towards them. Somehow I couldn't see myself as a Hufflepuff, but it was better than Gryffindor (Percy had got a little insufferable after a while…) and better than Slytherin, because no one would expect me to turn evil. They were all very welcoming, sure, I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was only here because I'd asked the Sorting Hat to put me here…

**

Got all that? Singing – not wanting to be a witch – Slytherin – Hufflepuff? Good. So I, Maisie Wilkins, am a Hufflepuff. No, I'm not. I'm a Slytherin dressed in Hufflepuff clothing… Sigh… But although I'm one of them, I hate the Slytherins. The ones I know, anyway. Stupid Malfoy. In fact, I'm sure most of the Slytherins are all right (what's wrong with being cunning and ambitious anyway?) but listening to Malfoy go on about Mudbloods gets a little tiring.

It wasn't that I didn't like the Hufflepuffs. They're a good bunch of people, very tolerant, compassionate and all that. But I don't deserve to be there.

**

I was an August baby – I think I was the youngest person in my year – and on my fifteenth birthday, in the middle of the summer holidays, I was having a long, pondering think about being a witch, a singer, and a Hufflepuff.

I did have friendsat Hogwarts, in the sense that I had people who'd help me with my homework and chat to me during lessons, but I didn't have _friends_, people I'd share my deepest darkest secrets with, people I'd eat midnight feasts with and talk about my dreams. I was reasonably good at magic, doing well in Charms, Potions and Transfiguration, even though I was pretty naff at Herbology and _awful _at History of Magic. I suspected Professor Binns had bored himself to death. Care of Magical Creatures was OK, although who _couldn't _be good at looking after Flobberworms? My other option was Muggle Studies, which I took because I wouldn't have to do any work, plus it did at least seem more honest than Divination. In any case, I was better known for constantly cheeking my teachers than being good at anything.

Hufflepuffs were meant to be hardworking and friendly, so how come all my friends were acquaintances, and I hadn't taken something like Ancient Runes or Arithmancy? Besides me being bad at maths? I _wanted _to be a Hufflepuff, to fit in somehow, to be a spunky Hufflepuff type girl, but – as I endlessly reminded myself – I was a Slytherin. I had more in common with Malfoy than I did with Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Ernie MacMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Your trouble is," I told my mirror strictly (being a Muggle mirror, it couldn't talk back), "that you're constantly trying to be something you're not. You're Hufflepuff enough for the Sorting Hat, aren't you? That should be good enough for anyone."

Come to think of it, maybe I wasn't Slytherin enough after all. What had I done with that obsessive singing ambition I'd had before I'd known I was a witch? I sighed, feeling dishearted. What _could _I have done with it? I suspected my parents of hoping that my singing voice would deteriorate over the years, but apart from needing some refreshing with a voice tutor, it was as good as ever. Actually, _I'd _rather hoped my singing voice would deteriorate, and stop reminding me of what could have been had I not been a witch.

"All right, Maisie, here's the deal. When term starts, you're going to have one goal. To be totally and relentlessly yourself, got it?"

I saluted my reflection.

**

On the Hogwarts Express, they seemed to be playing a game of 'Who can talk about last year the most without mentioning Cedric Diggory?' Poor Cedric, he'd always seemed like such a nice guy; Hufflepuff to the core, of course. I had nothing against Harry Potter but Cedric had rightfully been the Hogwarts champion and it seemed jolly unfair that he'd got killed because someone had it in for Harry.

"Susan," I asked curiously of my housemate, as she successfully mentioned the last day of term and leaving out that last banquet, during which she'd been crying her eyes out. "If Hogwarts had a choir, would you join?"

She stared at me as if I'd just asked her if she'd like a pet Blast-Ended Skrewt. "A _choir_?"

"Yes, you know, for singing and things."

"I know what a choir is… But I can't sing."

"I bet you can," I said, encouragingly. "You don't have to be _brilliant_ at it, there would be lots of other people singing at the same time."

"I can't hit high notes."

"Perfect! You're an alto!"

"A what? Why are you asking, anyway, Maisie?"

"I'm thinking of setting up a choir. It'd be fun… Eloise?"

Eloise Midgen blinked at me. "I can't sing either."

She turned back to Susan. "Anyway, Su, you were saying?"

OK, no luck there. Yet. Another target?

"What about you, Hannah?"

Hannah looked up from her book. "What about me what?"

"If I set up a choir, would you join?"

"I simply don't have time," she told me shortly. She looked back to her book. Much as I liked her, she could be very irritating.

"What are you reading? Wizard fiction? Can I have a look? Flourish and Blotts is so expensive."

Reluctantly she handed the book over.

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All's Fair in Love and Quidditch

Delores Wendleworth, a young aspiring Seeker, is delighted to discover she's the only woman member of the Kentish Kites. However, matches soon become torture when she must play directly against her jealous boyfriend, Anthony Livingstone, the powerful Seeker for the Essex Eagles. She feels she owes the Kites her best, but how can she keep the Quidditch cup and her boyfriend at the same time? And why does the intense Keeper, Heathcliff Lockley, make her feel so weak inside?

I grimaced, and handed the book back. "Sorry I asked. I don't suppose you've read any Louisa May Alcott?" Just call me sentimental.

"Who?"

"Dickens?"

"Who's that?"

"Shakespeare?"

She looked completely blank. "Muggle authors?"

I groaned. "_Witches_…"

"But _you're _a witch," Hannah protested.

**

A new year, a new feast, new Hufflepuffs to cheer on and new work to do. Joy. The school song.

Probably the only singing I'd ever heard at Hogwarts, and I have to confess, I did rather enjoy it. Totally raucous…

I usually just belted out the words and sat down. It didn't really count to me as singing. Still, I remembered my goal, and decided that I might as well sing it properly. _Unchained Melody_ seemed like a good bet for the tune.

Most of the others sang it quite quickly (something about those words suggests to me fast and bouncy), so soon enough the only ones left singing were the Weasley twins (who'd done a repeat of their Hogwarts Funeral March) and me.

Everyone was looking at me.

The Weasley twins, at last realising that the focus of attention was not on them, suddenly stopped and looked at me curiously.

I confess, I was pretty stunned. For the first time ever (all right, second time since the Sorting), I had the complete attention of the entire Great Hall. Damn, it was a nice feeling. Well, now to finish…

"…And learn until our brains all rot."

The whole school burst into applause. My reflection would be proud of me. When the clapping had at last died down (I took a bow and sat down again), Dumbledore turned to the Weasley Twins, the only ones still standing.

"I believe, Mister Weasley and Mister Weasley, that you still have to finish?"

Laughter. They launched into the rest of the song in double-time.

"I didn't know you could sing like that," Eloise whispered to me.

"Well, now you do," I said softly. A little sadly, too. I looked back to the rest of the students around me, and broke into a grin. They all knew now.

***

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Author's Note – yes I know I should be working on Albus Dumbledore's Inbox. Be encouraged, I have loads of free time this week. And it's mostly finished, just needs a little more and I'm also balking at the task of saying thank you to all my reviewers! HFHE should also get another chapter soon, I've already started writing it, and Children's songs for Dark Wizards will get an update whenever I feel like it.

Funnily enough 'Is there a choir?' was one of the first questions I asked a student who was showing me around my secondary school. Presto the Basilisk includes a school choir in 'Harry Potter and the Lord of the Clones' and Ara Kane mentions extra-curricular music in the wonderful (pro-Hufflepuff!) fic, 'Sounds like a Breakfast Cereal'. I used to be in a choir, but I'm not a great singer. Choirs are fun!


	2. Down on Skid Row

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Well here it is at last. The next chapter. I'm sorry it's taken so long, I really don't have much time to write at university.

I also seem to have the dubious fortune of having created a fic that is so popular it has more reviews than my other (19) fics put together. I speak, of course, of Albus Dumbledore's Inbox_. I'm sorry I haven't updated that either! The thing is, I haven't got a suitable amount of funny material and I refuse to post anything that isn't funny enough. Writers should always know when to stop…_

Disclaimer – It's all J. K. Rowling's, apart from the plot, Maisie Wilkins, Professor Akehurst (who is named after an old teacher of mine, hehehe) and Professor Evergreen (whose name comes from a fun yet vaguely Mary-Sue character in a novel I was attempting to write…)

Now let's hand over to Maisie. Or should I say, the Founding Four?

Chapter 2 __

Scene – the four founders are gathered in a small room, in which there is a cauldron with a ladle in it. Helga Hufflepuff is knitting. Rowena Ravenclaw is reading. Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor are playing chess. Salazar is taking sadistic joy in taking Godric's pieces, whilst Godric is obviously distracted about something.

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Godric Those Muggles will never understand us.

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Salazar Pawn, take knight, and when you do so, be sure to make it slow and painful.

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Godric They let their fear get in the way of understanding us!

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Salazar Your move, Godric.

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Godric Oh… Castle the king.

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Godric's bishop yelps 'but I'm exposed'. Godric doesn't appear to hear.

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Godric _(getting gradually more worked up)_They hate us because they fear us!

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Salazar Pawn, take that bishop too. With relish.

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Godric jumps up from his seat, and starts frantically pacing the room.

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Godric It has got to stop!

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Helga looks up from her knitting

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Helga _(kindly)_ What has, Godric?

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Rowena is totally ignoring them, deep in her book. Salazar pulls out some darts and starts throwing them at the chess pieces remaining from the game Godric has just abandoned, and he is chuckling as they fall over.

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Godric: This disgusting treatment of our kind!

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Helga Oh, I agree, dear. Would you like a bowl of freshly brewed broth?

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Helga bustles around the cauldron with a bowl and carefully pours him some.

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Godric This is too serious for broth! They're saying we're evil, possessed by the Devil, that we communicate with dead spirits, that we will corrupt their children.

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Salazar _(murmuring, still concentrating on attacking the chess pieces)_ Oh now, that's not fair. Their children were corrupt already; I just honed their instincts.

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Helga _(patiently)_ I know, Godric, but we learned how to block the flames if ever they tried burning, didn't we?

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Godric That's not enough!

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Rowena _(vaguely)_ Could you keep your voice down? I'm trying to read.

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Salazar It's not nice of you to complain, Godric, seeing as it's your fault there are still Muggles around. My plan would have worked quite nicely.

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Godric I will not _kill_ them.

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Salazar I didn't say kill.

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Rowena _(murmuring)_ No, the Basilisk was going to make friends with them and tell them that magic is fun…

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Helga Why don't you just sit down, Godric? You're getting all worked up, it's not good for you.

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Godric allows himself to be fussed into a seat.

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Helga There, that's better. Now eat your broth. 

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Godric takes it but ignores it, still deep in thought.

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Godric _(springing from his seat)_ I've got it! 

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Helga sighs.

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Rowena _(vacantly, her head still deep in her book)_ Oh good.

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Salazar You have? Yes, I knew bubonic plague had to spread to the wizarding population somehow.

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Helga _(patting Godric's shoulder comfortingly)_ What is it, Godric?

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Godric We'll start a school! A proper wizarding school! It'll be perfect! I could teach children to defend themselves against the Dark Arts! Helga, you have an excellent knowledge of Herbology… You could teach, couldn't you?

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Helga I suppose so, dear. I am rather fond of children.

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Salazar Oh, so am I. Tastes much better than pork.

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Godric I see it all clearly now! Rowena, you could teach Charms…

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Rowena _(still reading)_ Yeah, whatever…

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Godric And Salazar…

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Salazar Oh wonderful, I get to be a part of this little suicidal venture? I'm so thrilled.

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Godric _(oblivious)_ You could teach Potions! We'll mould young wizards and witches of the future! We'll strengthen them against the hatred of the Muggles! We'll teach them to not give way to hating them back…

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Salazar Tell them not to return the favour? And I thought the Gryffindors were meant to be noble.

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Godric We'll prepare them so they can use their gifts for good! We'll hone the latent power into a powerful strength!

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Rowena Is he still talking?

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She doesn't receive a reply. Helga has gone back to her knitting and Salazar has just taken a shot at the White Queen, who falls very elegantly. Godric is indeed still talking.

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Godric There will be broomstick games! And camaraderie! A haven for witches and wizards mocked by unmagical folk! And we'll call it Hogwarts.

I know everyone's so terribly enthusiastic about the Founding Four. So I handed this in for a History of Magic essay.

Seriously, it _is _how I see them. Just go to their portraits. Salazar Slytherin is a git. He's always making perverse remarks to the girls and being sarcastic about Gryffindor. Granted, he makes the Slytherins snicker and he can be quite funny sometimes (and he's never perverse to Slytherin girls, lucky things. Not even the pretty ones). Rowena Ravenclaw sounds like she ate several dictionaries for breakfast. I don't think she did anything _but_ read when she was alive. The Ravenclaws tend to nod and smile, too embarrassed to say that they can't understand a word she says. Godric Gryffindor sounds like a First World War officer. "Well, keep a stout heart, chaps!" He's so boring. And he keeps challenging Slytherin to a duel and calling him a 'blackguard'. Honestly. Helga Hufflepuff is the nicest, but all she ever talks about is making sure you're staying warm and keeping up with your homework. I was surprised she hadn't asked us to call her Aunty Helga yet.

I confess, I sort of hoped my 'essay' would shock Professor Binns to the afterlife. It didn't. It just came back with a shimmering green and rather slimy scrawl that read, _5/10 – accurate but not in an essay style._

I'm guessing he was alive when the Founders were.

Term was progessing fairly smoothly, and although the number of people asking me per week "Was that _you _on the first day of term?" was gradually lessening, Professor Snape was observed to make a number of sarcastic remarks about it in Potions. Actually that wasn't too bad, it was sort of nice to have my existence acknowledged for once. If you're the one Professor Snape picks on during lessons, you became instant martyr-for-the-day. I'm quite _reasonable _at Potions, and he'll never even think to say "Well done." In general, he just ignores me. He tends to attempt to eradicate the self-esteem of anyone with a molecule of fame, and so when I got some renown, suddenly my potions were the wrong shade of azure or something. This naturally leads to a lot of people saying, "Don't worry Maisie, you made a _perfectly good_ potion" after Potions lessons. Which is nice.

Charms wasn't too bad, despite me severely irritating Flitwick. He's funny irritated, his voice goes all jumpy. I was having too much fun learning the interesting charms to do my homework. This has always been my problem. A few years back I had, for some reason, annoyed Eloise Midgen by demonstrating _Alohomora _to her on the padlock on her secret diary. She wouldn't accept that I was just trying to persuade her to get a more secure system. She said that people who did the work _set _in Charms didn't know _Alohomora_, so I demonstrated that Muggles could open her diary too, and picked the padlock with a badgepin. The next day, she got some mail-order invisible ink but claimed it was nothing to do with me.

This year, I had perfected a burping charm (I picked this up from _Witch Weekly_, it's good for trapped wind and for burping babies. Seems rather a soulless way to burp babies, but there you go), the slippery-feet charm (which is great for pretending to ice-skate, I love ice-skating) and the deep voice charm, for Darth Vader impressions. ("Who's Darth Vader?" Hannah Abbott asked me, after I demonstrated this. I'm trying to presuade Professor Akehurst, our Muggle Studies teacher, to show us _Star Wars_ one day but he doesn't approve of such 'nonsense'.)

Flitwick, on the other hand, was teaching us summoning charms and sleeping charms. Sleeping charms, honestly, how boring. For one thing, the recipient has to be willing to sleep, so you can't use it for anything interesting. For another, the charm only induces sleep, it doesn't maintain it, and whilst it gives us good practice of _Enervate_, if there's something keeping you awake, a sleeping draught would be better. As for summoning charms, most of the time we spent learning them I spent seeing if I could make the objects dance, like in Disney's _Sword in the Stone_. Turns out I can't with _Accio_, so in bored hours I've gone to the library to see if there is anything that _will _do it. Hermione Granger almost throught I was another intellectual until she asked me what I was up to. Then she gave me a funny look and made her excuses.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had taken a new turn for the worst. Our new professor was a woman (gasp) called Professor Evergreen who was freshly back from having done a long intensive course on Defence but not actually possessing any practical knowledge or indeed any charisma. Plus her once-a-month problem appeared to rival Professor Lupin's. Poor sad woman.

Although I confess I was hardly helping her situation. Having been assigned a four foot long essay and managing about eleven inches, I told her that I'd been doing it in the library and someone had hexed my quill to write invisibly. Probably Ashley Zabini, Blaise Zabini's cousin. I claimed I'd written the rest of the essay, assuming that she would know the appropriate counterspell. She was greatly distraught when she realised she couldn't make the rest of the essay appear. Actually I felt guilty for days and had nightmares that involved Professor Sprout ordering my expulsion from Hufflepuff and Professor Snape telling me to sacrifice my firstborn. There was definitely a flaw there seeing as I've never been pregnant, and in fact I'm a virgin.

I muddled by the first couple of weeks, and eventually worked up enough resolve to go visit Myrtle. I always felt guilty if I didn't do this at least once a month. You've probably heard of 'Moaning Myrtle', the girls' lavatory ghost, and no one – absolutely no one – ever goes into those toilets. Well I heard a rumour that Percy's little brother Ron did once, and Slytherin girls always trick hapless first years into going in there, but after the first couple of weeks of term, everyone's learned their lesson and stays out.

Not that I don't blame them, but this has always struck me as pretty mean. No _wonder _she always cries if the only person who ever talks to her is Peeves and that's to make fun of her. I figured that maybe Dumbledore let her stay in the girls' toilets so she might make some friends at last (you know all ghosts have unfinished business – hers might be to get a life) and so out of some sense of duty I decided to visit her now and again.

To be honest, this mere act alone always makes me feel over-martyred. I always assumed the reason I had no real friends was because my mind works on a different plane to the rest of the Hufflepuffs (who seem to be interested in nothing but staying quiet and believe homework is a good idea) – the same is true of Myrtle, except her mind (or what's left of it) works on a plane that's buried in the lowest depths of misery. She takes most pleasure in seeing me unhappy. It's very tiring.

I knocked on the door of the toilets.

"Who's there? Someone else come to laugh at me? Oh yes, let's laugh at Myrtle…" Never mind that anyone come to laugh at her probably wouldn't knock first.

I sighed heavily, and opened the door.

"No, Myrtle, it's only me."

She looked more awful than usual, her ghostly face streaked with ghostly tears and her ghostly nose running with ghostly snot. 

"Oh, it's you." She didn't sound impressed. "I thought you'd forgotten me. When you didn't come at the beginning of term, I assumed you found me too _tiresome_. Either that or something _horrible _had happened."

My attempt at a charitable smile faded. I was never quite sure whether to feel guilty or angry at Myrtle's accusations. She was right, I did find her too tiresome and that was because she _was _too tiresome. However when she said it, I always felt bad about even daring to think such a thing.

I sat on a rickety sink, which miraculously did not break.

"Oh no, Myrtle, it's just that I've been busy."

She sniffed. "Oh yes, too busy for me of course. Of course living people are much – more – _interesting_ than dead ones…" She burst into tears. I was horrified.

"Oh _no_, Myrtle, I'm sorry, I should have come sooner." I reached to pat her arm and my hand passed straight through something that felt like a creamy kind of mist. She wailed louder.

"I thought you would have been busy with the first years anyway," I jabbered feebly, but she was having none of it.

"Yes, that's right, busy being teased and laughed at, busy having things thrown at me…"

"Perhaps if you were nice to them?" I murmured.

"NICE? Nice to people who are so _horrible _to me?"

I didn't quite have the heart to tell her why they were so horrible to her. It would hurt her feelings, and hurting Myrtle's feelings intentionally seemed especially rude as it was so easy to hurt them unintentionally. 

After I'd left Myrtle, things looked brighter. Essays looked more fun, Snape looked kindly, Malfoy looked tolerant, and just about everything looked better than Myrtle. I wondered if I should go and inflict penance on myself for thinking such a thing, or maybe go celebrate that my self-inflicted punishment was over for this month. Possibly I could go and look over my weakly-plotted creative work – _Hogwarts: The Musical_ – having sufficiently redeemed myself for my lack of dedication to work.

And that was it. First month of term, a nice quiet beginning. I'm not sure if it's comforting or annoying to look back at after the craziness that followed. Well, I'll tell you more about that later…

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***

A/N – I know this chapter is a bit slow and has about as much action and adventure as an Enid Blyton schoolgirl novel with no midnight feasts, but I promise more to come.

A/N2 – I've added these notes later because I forgot (eek!) to include them in the original uploading… Thanks to my reviewers :-)

Gina Starr! Yes it is unusual but will hopefully be a lot of fun!

Odd World! Aaah, where would I be without your reviews? *hugs* Total opposite of a Mary Sue? Yay!

Ara Kane! Hufflepuff rules! Ooh borrow your characters? What a tempting thought… I might sneak in a cameo ;-) I'll let you know.

Admiral Albia! Heya, glad you like the story. Yes indeed, an awful lot could go wrong…

Kaylin! Thanks, I will keep writing :-)

Aqua Rosewater! LOL, cute :-) thanks.

Ariana Deralte! Thanks :-) Oh yes, and Dumbledore sang an opera in Intersections in Real Time, didn't he? :-)


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